Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife

When he raised his head and stared blindly into the darkness, he knew he loved her. And she was right about the fear because it scared him to death. Since the break-up with Fiona he had emerged as a respected businessman, a force to be reckoned with. He had furthered his father’s business far beyond what it had been when he had first come on board, working all hours, building a small dynasty which had brought its own rewards and problems. But he had been in control. Always. And this—this was something different.

Was he too scared to make a commitment? He nodded his answer. And yet he loved her.

The other part of h

is brain that seemed to be having a conversation in his head came in loud and strong. He had loved Fiona, hadn’t he? Had worshipped her, even. And she had led him one hell of a dance, had publicly humiliated him.

But Marianne wasn’t like that.

How did he know that? Who really ever knew another person, deep inside? You heard of couples who had been together twenty, thirty years separating, one partner going off with someone new. He raked back his hair with an irritability that mirrored his father’s. So it was far better never to get involved in happy-ever-after in the first place, surely?

And live your life alone?

Yes, he could do that. He nodded to the thought. That didn’t scare him. He’d done it since the divorce and managed fine. Until he’d met Marianne.

So you walk away. You get on with your life and you leave her to get on with hers. In a world of men. And what happens when you hear she’s with someone? What then?

He ground his teeth. He’d want to kill the guy, that was what. He swore softly.

Marianne had confronted him with the fact that he wanted to have his cake and eat it; that was it in a nutshell. She wasn’t like the women he had dated the last few years and he had known that, but he had still hoped he could use the sexual attraction between them to persuade her to fall in line with what he wanted. What sort of man was he?

He groaned, rising abruptly and beginning to pace again. And what sort of man did she think he was? All this damn self-counselling and there was a good chance she’d laugh in his face if he did get up the courage to meet her on her terms. And he didn’t want to be vulnerable again.

His insides twisting with the intensity of his emotions, he kicked at the sand savagely. Was she like her mother? Promising one thing to one man and then calmly disappearing into the bright blue yonder with another? History had a habit of repeating itself. And his father had tried to excuse Marianne’s mother of any responsibility for their break-up when he’d told him what had transpired; that had been what had really got to him. All those years and he obviously still carried a torch for the woman.

And then he stopped suddenly, lifting his face to the starlit sky. Or could it be, maybe—just maybe—that the young Diane had been as devastated as his father had said she was when she had ended their relationship? His father had been adamant that the finish of their love affair had been nothing to do with Marianne’s father’s position in the community and the wealth that went with it. But he hadn’t believed him. He hadn’t wanted to. Raw and hurting as he had felt for his mother, he had needed to blame someone. He had held up his parents in his mind as the perfect couple and he hadn’t liked it when he had discovered his mother had not been his father’s first love. Childish, maybe. Unfair, certainly.

Feeling that he didn’t know which end of him was up, Rafe continued to face his gremlins. His mobile phone rang and he answered it. It was his father, wondering where he was. He explained he had walked Marianne home—stretching the truth slightly—and then come down to the beach to clear his head of all the stress of the last weeks. His father took this at face value, or at least he didn’t question his explanation, which was enough tonight.

The night was chillier but he didn’t feel the cold. At some point well after midnight he began to understand. Some time during the last few months since he had met Marianne he had begun to work things out in his mind. He hadn’t been aware of it but it had been happening. Which was why the couple of dates he had had with Victoria had been an effort on his part, and likewise the lady in America. He didn’t know where he was going but a change had started to happen. He wasn’t satisfied with his life any longer.

His brow wrinkled as he tried to catch thoughts which still didn’t make sense, but after another hour or so he stood up and began to retrace his footsteps, having come to a decision. He was going to stick around here for a time, using Seacrest as the excuse. He would phone Andy Jackson tomorrow, his second in command in the States, and tell him he was in charge for the next few weeks.

When he reached the sleeping village he stood for a moment wondering if he was absolutely sure what he was doing. There was no guarantee Marianne would want him even if he conquered his demons, and he didn’t intend to broach the subject of them with her again until he was sure he could offer her what she wanted. And he was far from sure right now. All he was sure of was that he wanted her, needed her, loved her and the thought of another man’s hands on her was unthinkable. But that wasn’t enough. It had to be all or nothing. For him as well as her.

After the sort of night Marianne wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy she finally gave up the fight for sleep at five o’clock and padded down to the kitchen. After making herself her first coffee of the day, she took it outside and stood and watched the sun rise, thinking of Rafe. It was a beautiful morning.

Part of her was sad that this would be the last time she would stand at the kitchen door on a summer’s morning with a coffee and watch the birds squabble at the bird table beyond the flower border. Once the builders arrived they had orders to reduce the room to an empty shell ready for its makeover as a family-cum-children’s area, a place where parents with energetic youngsters could come and let the children play without disturbing other guests in the drawing room. The new kitchen, on the other side of the house, was well underway but until it was finished she had arranged to have a small fridge and kettle in her bedroom, along with a tiny microwave. It would be a few weeks yet before the builders started on the extension which would be her and Crystal’s accommodation.

As the birds began to sing and sunshine flooded the garden she went inside to shower and get dressed, trying to concentrate on anything but Rafe. There was no reason to think about him any more, she told herself fiercely. OK, so she’d have to liaise with him up to a point over the next few months until Seacrest was up and running as a business, but there would be Crystal and Andrew around, too, and she would make sure everything was kept on a strict working basis. She could do this. She had no choice. One day at a time. That was what her father had always said when life had got difficult.

She heard the foreman’s car scrunch onto the drive about seven o’clock. He was somewhat early but it did not matter; she was more than ready to start the day. He usually came a little while before his men and talked through the day’s programme with her.

Stitching a smile onto her face, she opened the front door. The smile froze and so did she when she saw who had just unfolded himself from the front seat of what must be a hire car.

‘Good morning, Marianne,’ Rafe said calmly. ‘Crystal said work usually commences around seven-thirty so I thought you might be up.’

She stared at him. He was freshly shaven and the light blue shirt he was wearing was tucked into the flat waistband of his casual trousers. He looked cool and perfectly at ease, and for a moment the resentment was white-hot. She’d had a sleepless night and felt like a wet rag this morning, but there was Rafe, as controlled as ever.

‘Good morning,’ she said stiffly.

‘I thought it might be opportune to have a word with the men before they start work.’ He walked towards her, unsmiling. ‘And I’d like to see progress thus far if that’s all right by you?’

‘Of course.’ She tried to match his detached, even tone but it was hard. ‘It’s your money that’s funding this.’ That sounded a little curt and by way of recompense she added, ‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘I’d love one.’

She turned on the doorstep and he followed her into the kitchen, glancing around as he said, ‘They start work in here today, don’t they?’